


Madhouse

by TheInfamousDoctorF



Category: Call of Duty Nazi Zombies
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Nazis, bad German accents, cultural slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousDoctorF/pseuds/TheInfamousDoctorF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A back story tale about the Allies first meetings in Verruckt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madhouse

Richtofen wasn’t sure what he thought would happen when he pulled the lever on his boss, but being chased by the undead was not at the top of the list. As soon as Maxis had brought the dog into the laboratory he knew there was going to be trouble. Richtofen wasn’t even supposed to be involved with that experiment, he’d already been tactlessly ordered off his own project so Maxis could take credit for his invention, as usual. Edward had just happened to be in the right part of the asylum to hear the unholy noises the dog made when it came out the other side of the teleporter.  
Then the girl was crying and he snuck around the corner in time to see her run into the room with whatever monstrosity the dog had become. Maxis panicked and ran in after her, and here was his chance. He licked a bead of sweat from his upper lip, only hesitating for a moment, the madness falling over him like a cloak. He tapped the glass so they would see what he was about to do, and sardonically waved goodbye to his awful boss and attendant spawn. There was a burst of light and noise, discharge that fried delicate circuits as the machine sent them to a place with no coordinates set.  
Dr. Edward Richtofen leaned heavily against the wall, his breath labored, but triumphant.  
Then he felt it, it was like the ground was shaking, he stumbled on the buckling floorboards. The rickety asylum was nowhere to be in an earthquake. And surely he could be excused from going outside without permission if there was a natural disaster? If they asked he could say he knew nothing about the Maxises ‘accident’, his leather gloves had left no fingerprints on the incriminating lever. With increasing unease he noticed that the hallways seemed empty, ‘where were the guards?’  
He burst through the front door as the cement cracked underneath him. As he set foot on the overgrown lawn the shaking stopped. There was a sound; it seemed to come from everywhere, rising swiftly in tone and volume. It changed into a shriek of terror, the unearthly scream of the demon-possessed. ‘Surely not… Samantha?’  
“Eddie? I’m going to make you pay for what you did too daddy. We’re gonna play a game.”  
Richtofen spoke to the open air, “surely you can’t be serious? Samantha? Vhere are you?”  
“Everywhere. I am everywhere. And now, we play!”  
Richtofen looked around in confusion, the last thing he wanted to do was play some psychotic game with his bosses brat. Then another sound caught his attention; a tortured groan from the sparse tree line. The unmarked grounds of the asylums graveyard was moving, shifting upwards and forming into hands, heads and arms that reached skywards. With a squeak of terror he bolted back inside and locked the sturdy doors behind him.  
Once again he wondered where everyone else had gotten to, and resisted the urge to call out for them. Glass shattered in the waiting room and he ventured a peek into the open doorway. A gray-faced zombie with glowing eyes was tearing at the window, and as he watched in mounting horror it clambered into the room. He shut that door as well and headed back down the hall to his office.  
That accursed Maxis had given him a room with no windows just to irritate him, but he was thankful for it now, as he dug in his desk drawers for the extra magazines for his lugar and his service pistol. Richtofen briefly considered making a stand in this room, but it seemed better to stay on the move and look for survivors.  
He’d worn his good uniform today; the doctor had planned to put his current crop of test subjects through some physical trials and liked to look good while basically standing around shouting at them and occasionally smacking an ass with his riding crop.  
Richtofen swore venomously while shooting the gray-faced zombies that now shuffled around the asylum. He’d been looking forward to today, exercise day was his favorite. Now he was spending it running for his life from his own dead countrymen and patients alike.  
He took a chance lingering in the cafeteria for a moment. Grabbing a few bites of food in a momentary lull. ‘Even zombies wouldn’t touch the food here’, he thought bitterly, letting a ladle fall with a splash back into some pot of swill that had been left cooking. Long shadows stretched over upturned tables and scattered chairs, and he saw with unease that the sun was setting. There a weird tingle in the air and the sound of something large powering off with a crackle of electricity. The descending silence afterwards was deafening.  
He ventured out into the room, but nothing shambled towards him. Gingerly Richtofen picked his way through the debris; the lights in the hall were flickering, but thankfully still working.  
Perhaps he could make it to the lab now. The hall leading there was too long and tight to chance getting stuck in, but if everything had gone away it might be worth it to get… her.  
As he walked he mused on the situation. The zombi-fication effect of the 115 either hadn’t worked its dark magick on him, or Samantha had chosen to spare him for her own amusement. He wondered if perhaps his test subjects had been spared as well. They were immune after all. Richtofen bit his lip and sucked thoughtfully on the trickle of blood. It was getting them to cooperate with him that would be the hard part.  
He fumbled with the keys to his own work area, and stumbled into the dark. Poor Groph must have been in here when ‘it’ happened. The assistant was nowhere to be seen, but the room looked as though someone had thrashed about, upsetting the fixtures and smashing the glassware. He pulled the long box out from under the far edge of his desk and reverentially opened it.  
The flickering light gleamed off the gold pipes of the Wunderwaffe, the thing was longer then a sniper rifle and far more deadly. It was Richtofen’s favorite invention; a gun that shot chain lighting. Edward had earned the cluster of Lichtenberg fractal scars on his hip while testing its efficacy. The doctor cradled it lovingly and gave it a small kiss before lashing it over his back.  
He pulled out a case of needles as well and tucked a glowing vial into his belt pouch, before heading down the basement steps.  
The Russian would fight him unless placated with drink. The Japanese subject would be hateful, but cooperative if he swayed the others first. It was the American that would be the problem. He hated to do it, but he’d have to wipe Dempsey entirely clean. If that one was allowed to remember the hell he’d been put through he’d hand-feed Richtofen to the zombies himself.  
Richtofen had tried to be equally hard on everyone, but they just didn’t have the same abilities. The regime that had hardened Masaki and Belinski literally killed the Spanish test subject. He’d died so quickly Richtofen had never even coerced him into giving his name. And then there was the stupid Marine. Sneaking into the asylum all alone like some idiot in an action movie.  
The doctor had gleefully ground him into the dirt and found him hard as diamond and twice as stubborn. He’d almost developed a grudging respect for this man who dared to swear and spit at him even while being experimented on. And while it was unprofessional even for a Nazi; Dempsey had been the whipping boy for Richtofen’s frustration with Maxis several times.  
He reached for the cell door. The man looked alive, he seemed to be asleep. It was no surprise since the lab assistants tended to keep the 115 subjects slightly drugged for everyone’s safety. They often gave Nikolai extra to prevent him from singing.  
The doctor readied a needle and tapped the bubbles from the red fluid that glowed softly in the flickering light. Dempsey lay in his chains, they’d let him keep his own clothes rather then try to make something big enough for his barrel chest. Quick as a snake Richtofen injected the serum into the helpless Marine and backed away. He reached around the open doorway for the keys, and gripped them with knuckles white under black leather. He stood the Wunderwaffe just outside the door in case there was a fist fight in the offing.  
Dempsey stirred, moaning as if in a nightmare. Richtofen drew his gun in case he’d been wrong about the dose or the immunity. A little 115 could make a man strong, swift, and tough, but too much could kill. Or in this case, erase a lifetime. He fancied he could see the memories drain from the Marine’s face, softening it in dreamless sleep.  
Tentatively he poked at Dempsey. “Wake up soldier, you’re needed.”  
“Huh? What the fuck?” Tank rolled over, he blearily looked at vague shape that resolved itself into a Nazi officer gently poking him. The American went ballistic; he leaped at the figure and came up short like a dog on a chain. He scrambled and narrowly avoided slamming his face into the floor. Tank looked up with a snarl. “What do want, you scummy kraut?”  
Richtofen looked at him owlishly, “who are you?”  
Dempsey blinked, realizing that he didn’t know. He knew what Richtofen was, but not who. He knew that he was an American Marine, but not what that entailed, or even his own name. Edward could see by the man’s look of confusion that the serum had been effective, it was a pity, but it would make the situation easier.  
The doctor rummaged in a pocket, “I’m pretty sure zhis is yours American.” He threw the shining thing rather then come within arms reach of the angry blonde. It clattered on the floor and Tank scooped it up. The situation felt wrong, but the dog tags felt right. He read the name, ‘Tank Dempsey’ and let it fit down like a missing piece into his shattered mind.  
“Is that your name?” Richtofen asked coolly.  
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure.” He grumbled as though unused to kindness, “thanks for that.” He lifted his hands and looked at the manacles. “I guess I’m a prisoner right? But you don’t look like you belong down here with me.” He smiled slyly, “any chance you’re here to cut me loose?”  
“Actually I may do just that.”  
“Fucking really?”  
“We’ll see, I have a few questions first.”  
Tank sighed, “I knew it, you’re just here to interrogate me. You gave me something, so where’s the ‘bad cop’?”  
“No, it’s not like zhat.” Richtofen looked sheepish. “I am… Dr. Richtofen, and zhere has been some kind of accident. I sink everyone else might be dead. I vill ‘cut you loose’ if you vill cooperate with me.”  
“I don’t think I like the idea of taking orders from a Nazi, what do I get out of this?”  
Edward silently fumed in frustration. He could threaten to leave the American chained up, and presumably either the zombies would kill him, or he’d starve to death in this cell before anyone else came looking for survivors. But in the end it would be an empty threat, the American was too good of an asset and Richtofen knew he couldn’t survive this disaster alone.  
“We both have a better chance of surviving,” he replied bitterly. “I vould tell vhat is out there, but I don’t sink you’d believe me. But there are lots of them and just two of us. I don’t have lot of time to look for survivors, and…” Richtofen tried to make his expression look as trustworthy as possible. “And I’d prefer not to leave anyone behind. Even if zhey are an American.”  
“Hmmph. Put your money where your mouth is, kraut.” Tank lifted his hands, offering the manacled wrists to his foe.  
The doctor fumbled the keys, trying to keep his hands steady as he loosed the project’s strongest super-soldier from his shackles. Once freed; Dempsey moved like greased lightning, the air whooshed out of Richtofen’s chest as broad hands slammed him into the wall. Sweat beaded on Richtofen’s brow as Dempsey huffed like a bull, his breath hot on the Nazi’s face. Edward let slip an involuntary squeak. He wasn’t used to being touched, but surprisingly; the rough treatment didn’t make him angry. Tank’s eyes were so blue, and his calloused palms were in contact with the small rings of bare skin between Richtofen’s gloves and shirtsleeves. It was too much and his heart hammered in his chest.  
Tank stared at him, holding him fast and daring him to make a move that would end in the Nazi’s death.  
“You should… let go of me…” Richtofen gasped.  
“Why?” Tank said sarcastically, he hunkered in closer, “is the big bad Nazi uncomfortable?”  
“Not exactly…” Richtofen didn’t want to let slip any more information then he had too with Tank, but if disclosure would get him out of the blonde’s death-grip, he’d take a chance. The German canted his hips so their crotches were in contact and let the American feel the straining hardness in the doctor’s pants pressing against his own manhood.  
Tank looked down, and his expression was one of surprise and some disgust. He swore, and pushed himself away from the other man, wiping his hands theatrically on his pants. “What the fuck, seriously? German lunatic.”  
Richtofen was so relieved; he let himself slide down on the floor with his legs akimbo. He was trying to think of something other then how this gloriously handsome specimen had just dominated his very soul with sheer animal magnetism.  
Tank sneered at him. “Sicko.”  
Edward crossed his arms and sneered right back. “You don’t like it, zhen don’t touch me like zhat again. You deserve to be in chains, you, animal!”  
“Ugh. Whatever. Fine, trust me, the last thing I want to do is arouse a fucking Nazi. I won’t touch you like that again.”  
And all the while a little voice in Richtofen’s head was screaming for Tank to do just that and more. He tore his eyes away from the triangle of bare chest peeking over the Marine’s shirt and a creamy neck that begged to be bitten. He cleared his throat nervously. It had been a running problem since the man had showed up. Part of the reason he loved exercising them so much is that he could have Dempsey stripped down to his shorts and then yell in mock rage while daydreaming about licking the sweat from the man’s rippling abdomen. He twisted one wrist with the other hand as if massaging it. Really he was just hurting himself to help his obvious boner go away.  
Grudgingly Tank offered him a hand up. “Come on princess; let’s see if anyone else is around.”  
Still not trusting his good luck, Richtofen eased out the door first, lest Dempsey try to shut him in. The man leaned over his shoulder as he picked up the Wunderwaffe.  
“What the hell is that?”  
Agitated as he might be, Richtofen couldn’t resist that question. “Zhis is zhe Wunderwaffe DG2, it’s a lightning gun I invented.”  
The Marine stuck out a meaty hand, “Let me carry it.”  
“NO.” Richtofen clutched the gun like a baby to his chest. “It’s for crowd control und highly dangerous.” He took a step back to evade any grabby hands. The doctor pulled a pistol out his pocket and tossed it to the American, who deftly caught it. Tank looked unsatisfied, and Edward was in no mood to argue.  
“Fine, I’ll show you vhat happens if you use it carelessly.” With one hand he undid his belt buckle and turned sideways. With a crimson blush across his cheeks, the Nazi lowered his pants.  
Dempsey’s expression suddenly flitted from disbelief to mild horror. Between the man’s shorts and the slacks gathered at his boot tops was a massive fractal scar in glaring white. The flesh looked bruised and purple underneath.  
With a huff, Richtofen pulled up his pants and locked his gear back into place. “Good enough?”  
The Marine gulped, “yeah, man. Fucking keep it. I’ll stick with a regular gun that doesn’t turn my hips into hamburger.”  
Richtofen felt bold enough then to walk past the American in the narrow hallway. Their hands brushed briefly and he stalked ahead into the darkness.  
A little further down was a door with what appeared to be a hastily installed cabinet next to it. Setting the Wunderwaffe gently against the wall; the doctor knelt on the cold floor and tried keys until one finally opened it with a protesting squeak. The cupboard was filled with vodka bottles and he selected one at random. Richtofen squinted at the door, pretending to read the paperwork. “His name is Nikolai Belinski. And according to his file, I really hope he isn’t sober.”  
When the door opened, the Russian had been feigning sleep. He’d heard a bit of commotion down the hall and was hoping for a chance to escape this padded prison. He charged the square of light and caught the thunk of a glass bottle against his chest as he tackled someone to the floor.  
Richtofen was getting tired of having the wind knocked out of him. The Russian bear had hit his head on the floor and lost his stazi hat in the process. He clutched the bottle to his chest, thankful at least that it hadn’t broken. With a shaking hand he offered it to the raging Cossack who had his grubby fingers wrapped around the Nazi’s throat.  
“Uh, thanks.” Nikolai grunted, snatching the bottle and canting it almost vertically into his mouth. Richtofen stared in amazement as the Russian sucked down the whole bottle like it was water and then slowly toppled sideways off the German’s chest onto the floor.  
There was silence for a moment, and then Dempsey began to chuckle darkly.  
“Don’t stand zhere laughing you dummkoff, get him off of me.”  
“Ha-ha, say please first.”  
“Grrrrr.”  
Richtofen stuffed as many of the vodka bottles as he could into an old rucksack he’d found on a hook in the guards room, and lugged it and his weapon behind Dempsey. He could feel his pants getting tight again and he was glad the American couldn’t see him very well in the dark. Tank had picked up Nikolai Belinski like he was a feather and was now walking with the other man slung over his broad shoulders. Telling Tank what an ideal specimen he was, would likely get the Nazi slapped, but he could think about it as much as he wanted.  
At the end of the hall were two empty cells and a door with a pitch black window. Outside of it was a trunk and Tank kicked the lock off of it before Richtofen could even get out the keys. There was nothing inside but three service pistols and a sword. Doubly wary now, the doctor stood to one side when opening the door. But it was not a necessary precaution. The figure in the chair didn’t move when the feeble light fell on him.  
Tank let Nikolai gently to the floor, he moved past Edward into the room, “let me do this.” He knelt down to make himself level with the seated figure. “Hey, buddy, wake up.”  
Edward made a show of looking at the paper attached to the cell door. “His name is Takeo Masaki.”  
Tank nodded, “Takeo, that’s your name right? You should wake up. We’re busting you out of here.”  
The man’s words were clipped and soft; “An American, rescuing a Japanese man from a German cell? I think this is a trick.” He lifted a hand to show he was cuffed to the chair he was sitting in. Richtofen started hunting through the guards ring for a handcuff key.  
Takeo kept talking, “or perhaps this is a dream, an American and a Nazi, working together?” He leaned back in the chair.  
“No,” Tank replied, “this is real; the kraut says everyone else is dead. We only survived down here because we were locked up all safe and snug. You want to run with us, we stand a better chance of getting out of here alive.”  
Edward passed the key and Tank got to work undoing his cuffs. When he was freed he sat there for a long moment, just staring into the silence. “Who are you people?”  
“The guy with the funny accent is Dr. Richtofen, I’m Tank Dempsey and the dead drunk dumbass is Nikolai Belinski.”  
“And you are Takeo Masaki,” Richtofen said politely. “I think this is yours.” With trembling hands he passed the Oriental the sword that had been in the box and quickly stepped away. As the man felt the weight in his hands he seemed to come back to life, he stood up quickly and Edward would have sworn his eyes sparkled in the dark.  
“I have been too long in this box,” Takeo growled. “Please direct me to something I can kill.”  
Tank laughed, “I like this guy, he’s hard-core. Have a gun. I wanna give the Commie one too, but he won’t wake up.”  
“I can wake him.” Takeo stalked over to the sleeping figure and whispered something into his ear. The Russian stirred but didn’t move, so the Oriental kicked him sharply in the thigh.  
“Fuck you! Nikolai was having good sleep.” He focused his eyes on Takeo. “Hey, who let the monkey in here?”  
With a snarl Takeo pounced on the Russian and throttled him. Tank grabbed the smaller man, but it was obviously a great effort to pry his fingers loose from the other man’s throat. He held Takeo still until his breathing evened out and then pushed him away from his intended victim. Richtofen swatted Nikolai gently, “vake up, und try not to say something shtupid this time, okay?”  
“Why should I? Nikolai just wants to drink and sleep. Stupid Nazi should just fuck off too.”  
“Just leave him; he is obviously a lazy dog with no honor.” Takeo snarled. Richtofen looked up at him. “Vhe vill be facing very poor odds out zhere. One man could make a lot of difference. Vait! I know what he needs!”  
Takeo and Tank watched curiously as Richtofen brought the clinking sack in from the hall. Nikolai opened one lazy eyelid at the sound. Edward gave him a winning smile, his tone was one you’d use with a petulant child. “If you get up und help us I’ll give you a gun und a whole bag of vodka bottles.”  
The Russian grumbled, as if thinking was too much effort for his drink-addled brain. “How many bottles?”  
Richtofen made a show of opening the bag and jostling them around, “ten full bottles.”  
“And Nikolai gets gun?”  
The Doctor passed him one of the pistols.  
The Russian got up slowly, but then snatched the bag from the German’s surprised hands. He put the heavy pack on his shoulders and Richtofen blinked in amazement. The doctor had been dragging it awkwardly on the floor because he wasn’t strong enough to lift its mass, let alone wear it like a dainty purse.  
“Nikolai will help you, for now.”  
Richtofen stood up and dusted off his uniform, he saw that his now former test subjects were all staring at him. He adjusted his hat self-consciously and took up his gun. He felt a little stab of pride at his motley crew. They weren’t perfect but they were all obviously stronger then they should be. The doctor hoped desperately that that would be enough to survive what he sensed was coming.  
He’d been down here too long, he could feel it. “Come vith me, I vant to show you all something.”  
Richtofen’s heart sank as they emerged from the cellar into a burgeoning dawn. He was already feeling that crackle in the air again. “Zhey are coming back, I hope you all are ready for zhis.”  
“The one’s who you say killed everyone?” Takeo asked. “I will annihilate their souls.”  
Tank snorted, “The doc says they don’t have any souls. He says we’ve got a zombie problem.” Nikolai laughed, “then doktor is reading too many comic books.”  
“Either way, I’m looking forward to putting some bullets into a few skulls, and the first asshole that comes near me is gonna get it good.”  
Richtofen turned away quickly, so the filth that crossed his mind wasn’t blatantly obvious. He had an asshole that would desperately like to get it, but this was not the time or place for such things.  
The floor rumbled lightly under their feet and the sound of hellish moans floated in through the broken windows. Tank straightened, his training kicking in, “weapons full and at the ready people?” He grinned, and the sun glinted off his sharp white teeth. “Let’s kick some ass.”

Verruckt

AHHaaaaaaaaah  
1

0  
TankDempsey [1]  
500

0  
DrRichtofen [4]  
500

0  
NikolaiBelinski [2]  
500

0  
TakeoMasaki [3]  
500

 

[the end]


End file.
